


Day 1 - the silhouette

by emumfywrites



Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 - prompts, scenes & shorts [1]
Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series), No Fandom
Genre: NaNoWriMo, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emumfywrites/pseuds/emumfywrites
Summary: Little something that was stuck in my head.  Guess I shook it loose. This is my first attempt at a spooky story. Posting for NANOWRIMO Day 1 - 500 words.Inspired by a story Eugene Lee Yang from the Try Guys told on their podcast.Podcast - The Trypod ep. 27 The Haunting of Eugene Lee Yang





	Day 1 - the silhouette

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - 500 words  
Prompt - inspired by a story told during a try guys podcast episode. This is absolutely fictional and in no way is related to or inspired by events I’ve experienced. I generally HATE scary stories so it actually surprised me a bit that I wrote this.

I watch him. Silently, patiently, endlessly. He moves about his kitchen, pulling items together for a meal. Back and forth. To the refrigerator, to the cabinets, to the counter, back and forth. Pause... and then again, back and forth. 

He stops occasionally to scratch behind the ears of his dog. He paces around, adding a twirl or a hum. This is happiness, contentedness, bland and useless. I continue to wait. 

He moves out of my view, but I am patient. I have eternity. 

He is back, with a second dog at his heels, a tin in his hand. He moves to feed his dogs, before resuming his own dance. The idea of eating bores me. How often these humans must stop and consume. How it prevents them from existing if forgotten, how their culture surrounds it. I am not one for sustenance. My own being made up of different stuff than the human I watch.

He knows I am here, but not how consistently I watch. Not unless I want him to know. 

If I show my face, he’ll freeze. I keep my presence a secret, something you discuss behind closed doors. A whisper into the phone, a breeze across your neck.

I am here. I am here. Always. Eternally. 

Only during important moments do I let him know I am here. In a new house, after a bad dream. My presence is cloying, so I keep our interactions to a minimum. 

Not every human is watched. Not every human is as important as my human. 

It has grown later, the lights being turned on, the meal consumed. My human has retired into another room. I move silently from my perch to follow him, knowing he will not return to this room tonight. 

We are tethered, where he goes, I follow. 

He sinks into the couch, his dogs jumping up to join him. He seems content I surmise, and my waiting continues. 

It is my very essence to wait. To be eternal. I have been assigned to my human, and I will serve in my role until I am called home. 

I have no sense of what the humans call time, but his end is approaching. My own permanece fading, as my role to watch and wait grows less restrictive. Soon I will have another role to attend to.

But the end is not today, I conclude as I watch him collect items and ascend up the stairs. But soon. Perhaps tomorrow.

I silently follow him upstairs, and I let him catch a glimpse of my silhouette in the mirror. He freezes. 

I grin.

We’re locked in a staring contest. My essence swells as I sense these new emotions. Dread, anguish, surprise, they’re beautiful. Lush and complex, I consume it all. 

I retreat after a while. I’ve had my fill, my tether temporarily lifted. 

As I leave his house, gliding seamlessly through the door, I am absorbed into darkness. It is like a held breath being released. Relaxed, settled, calm. 

Tomorrow I will return.


End file.
